


good thing / bad thing

by girlsuit



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Complicated Relationships, Decisions, Fantasizing, Gay Male Character, Internal Conflict, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Overarching theme, Sexual Tension, edit: just to clarify even though its prob obvious this takes place in the book's adult timeline, idk what else to tag this as lads im exhausted, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsuit/pseuds/girlsuit
Summary: "This night has opened my eyes / And I will never sleep again"Bill Denbrough finds himself having to make a series of choices. Some of them, at first, seem unimportant; but everything adds up eventually.





	good thing / bad thing

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on such a creative kick right now i think i'm dying

In times like these - times of which right now there were many- one of the only things Bill could really do was hold on to what needed to be done. Quick as a flash he could make a list in his mind; what he needed to do for himself, what he needed to do for other people...and right now, somebody had to be walked home.

The closing of the circle had left its mark so violently it was impossible to pretend it hadn’t happened. They could all see the books and papers strewn across the library floor, smell the acrid smoke rising from the now fried typewriter, hear each other’s shaky and uneven breathing as they came down from their adrenaline highs. The adrenaline was gone, almost missed now. All that remained was the fear, the finality of it all. Yes, the finality; it was crushing, weighing down on their shoulders or hovering like a vulture over their heads. It was in every blink of an eye, every anxious twitch of a finger. Bill felt as though it would never truly leave him, even after the terrible thing they now had to do was long done. Beverly had said it best; “We’re in it to the end, aren’t we? God help us, we’re in it to the end.”

Now, they all stood in a stilted break-up of the circle they had made, staring at one another without speaking, and somebody needed to be walked home. Yes, home; that’s where they needed to go, before anything could really start. ‘Home’, for most of them, was the Derry Townhouse. Mike would likely hold down the fort at the library. They would not sleep - they would wait. They would wait for whatever next horrible thing would happen to them, whatever was the sign they could not wait any longer, and then they would put on the miner’s helmets Mike had stored for all these years and go back into those sewers again. In the meantime, someone needed to be walked home. No one said aloud who, or why; it was said through their eyes, like picking table partners in elementary school. They looked first at each other, then at Bill as if on instinct. Once the leader, always the leader, he supposed. He sized them all up in his mind, scanning strength and weakness.

Mike had lived in Derry his entire life; he was prepared to die here, too. Despite the grimace the closing of the circle seemed to have frozen on his face, Bill felt confident he would be alright on his own here in the library. Richie had enough chatter inside himself to sustain the five block trek to the Townhouse - it wouldn’t be until he was sitting on the bed of his room that it would sink in again, that he would see the faded blood on his palms and the white mark of the scar. Stan wasn’t here; when you’re six feet underground, no one walks you home anymore. That left three - Ben, Bev, and Eddie. It was like the buddy system all over again, going off in pairs and keeping the other in your sights...whether that be physically or mentally. It should have been almost ridiculous as an adult, a meaningless choice to make; and yet it wasn’t at all. Bill felt as though he were deciding between two extremes, though he could not exactly decipher what they were. The decision weighed on him inexplicably.

He chose to walk Eddie, and Ben to walk Bev. It really ended up being that simple.

Eddie thanked him in his breathy, almost whistling voice, and they headed off into the night after Ben and Bev. Eddie was visibly shaken by the closing of the circle; his already pale face seemed nearly bloodless, and there was a tremble to his motions that had not been present before. Every so often he looked down at the drying blood that had dripped from his palms onto the knees of his dress pants, and a harrowed look would cast a shadow on his strained face. Bill hooked one of Eddie’s arms around his, and this seemed to soften him up slightly; the suggestion of a pleased smile crossed the shorter man’s face. They did not speak much as they walked. There was no real need for words; their history was a glue that bonded them, through sadness, through trauma, and down Main Street, walking arm and arm towards the townhouse as residential shadows loomed overhead. Their silence was a form of protecting each other, like a barrier against whatever was lurking just steps away.

And yet, it was a silence that held the expectation of words.  One of them would start talking, eventually; though what would be said was a mystery to them both. It was the sort of walk that people talk on - the kind where you learn things. You learn things about who you’re walking with, whether you want to or not. This is what worried Bill in the slightest; what more could he possibly learn about Eddie? Is his mind there was nothing between them but the years. It was a naive thought, a childish thought, sure. But as the night went on, he felt himself feeling more and more like a child. As he and Eddie walked, they made occasional eye contact; every time, Eddie would smile, and then promptly look away, as if he were keeping a secret. But still he did not speak. Bill could see the words inside his skull, behind his lips - they writhed like snakes and tried to push their way out of him. He seemed at war with them, and losing.

It was two thirds through the walk, in front of the spindly silhouette of the Derry Community Center, when Eddie spoke up. He stopped walking abruptly, causing Bill to lurch forward as their arms were still linked. “Eh-everything alright?” Bill said gently, though it felt absurd to ask. It was a reflex of his; the answer in this scenario was so clearly ‘no’. His eyes traced the movement of Eddie’s chest as it heaved with a sigh, bracing himself for the confession...whatever it was. As it came, it still managed to throw Bill for a loop:

“I’m not in love with Myra.”

Myra, Eddie’s wife; Bill had never met her (and likely never would), but his brain conjured up an image of a caring, if somewhat plain woman with nervous eyes and a tendency to smother. An awful lot like Eddie’s mother, he supposed. It took him a while to actually comprehend what Eddie had said - the words seemed to fit together all wrong. _Not in love….with Myra...Not in love with wife…_ It was like the idea was blocked in his mind, inaccessible. Eddie looked at Bill with a vulnerability in his eyes, and it jolted something in his stomach that forced words out of him. In retrospect, they were not the words (or word) he would have chosen if he were to do it over again. “Wh-wh-what?”

Eddie flinched in just the slightest, and it sent a wave of guilt through Bill. “I know, I know, it sounds terrible,” Eddie muttered, his eyes not meeting Bill’s. “I mean, I do _love_ her. She’s real sweet and all. But I’m not...I’m not _in_ love with her.” There was a pause, and Bill heard Eddie take a shaky breath before he spoke again. “That probably makes no sense.”

“No, I guh-get you,” Bill reassured, and Eddie seemed to react positively. He straightened his posture a little and continued speaking.

“I suppose I just...I could never _really_ love anybody, love them...like that, except one of you guys. I guess it’s just the way I am.” The suggestion of a blush crept up on Eddie’s face as he spoke. It was a sentimental thing, almost mushy; but there was an uglier truth behind the words. Bill could almost see it, peering through the cracks and trying to rear its head. There was a subtext, an innuendo of sorts to what Eddie had said. Bill took it apart in his mind, analyzing each part. He supposed this was the mark of a writer’s mind; finding the intent behind the words. _Love them...like that...I guess it’s just the way I am...I guess it’s just the way I am..._ All of a sudden something clicked inside of Bill’s head; shifting his body weight slightly towards Eddie, he re-established eye contact before speaking in a low voice.

“Are you suh-suh-saying you’re-”

“Yeah!” Eddie squeaked out, his face contracting as though he were startled. The blush started to creep down his neck. “Um, yeah, I am.”

Bill felt as though he split in two; two sides of the same coin with wildly different faces. In one way, he felt he had always known; even as a kid, Eddie was shy, fussy, bad at sports...but it went deeper than those tired stereotypes, Bill knew. There had always been a little something that felt different about Eddie - it showed up in little ways, like the way he hated showering after gym when they were in school. Everyone hated having to shower after gym, but there was something different about the way Eddie hated it; a strange sort of guilt that underscored the embarrassment. It wasn’t the sort of thing that he would have thought about as a kid, but looking back through the lens of adulthood it was clear as day to Bill. In another way felt as if he could never have guessed if Eddie hadn’t told him. If someone had asked him before now if Eddie was gay, he would have said no. If someone had _told_ him Eddie was gay (someone other than Eddie) he wouldn’t have believed them.

“H-How long have you kn-kn-known?”

“Since we were kids, I think. Right around...when everything started.” Eddie paused for a moment, a stony look just barely shadowing his face; there was no need for him to elaborate. “It was the only thing I remembered before Mike called. Kind of hard to forget, I suppose.” Eddie gave a toothy grin, trying to diffuse the situation, but it became more of a grimace.

“Well, then...why m-marry M-Myra?” Bill asked quietly. In his head he was trying to put together the story of it, organizing the information and putting it together like the pieces of a puzzle. Eddie did not answer this question right away; he looked down at a crack in the sidewalk with a vacant frown, and Bill realized a bit too late that he was being an interrogator. “I mean, i-if you don’t w-w-want to answer it’s-”

“No, no, it’s alright, Bill.” Eddie sighed a little, still looking down. “I ought to think about these things more than I do.” He rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, presumably doing just that. “It was ‘cause of my mother, I think,” Eddie finally said, looking back up at Bill. “Before she died. She would always harp on me for not going out, not meeting people my age...girls my age is what she really meant. She wanted to be a grandma. Eventually I got so sick of it I suppose I just kind of...picked a girl and married her.”

“Oh.”

Bill wasn't sure what else to say. There was a sadness inside of Eddie, a plaintive, simplistic sadness, and yet it was a feeling Bill would never know for himself. He was overcome with a sympathy for something he did not understand. He thought Eddie would make a good character in a drama; a quiet and simple drama of introspection. Yes, that was how it felt, as if there were a curtain of fiction between them.

Bill made an attempt to lift the curtain with another question, shuffling ever so slightly closer to Eddie. “Do any of the uh-uh-others know?” This inquiry seemed less heavy on Eddie’s spirit, and he gave a breathy, almost nostalgic sigh before answering.

“Richie figured it out when we were in high school,” he began, “After you went to Portland. He was real proud of himself on that one, but he promised not to tell. He made good on that, far as I know. And I kissed Stan once...that summer. But…” Eddie’s face fell again, a vague frown upon his face as though he had been pricked with a pin. There was no need to fill in where he trailed off; it was a story told through the auto-fill of their minds.

Eddie shifted to lean back against the street lamp, the glare of its bulb reflected against his glasses, and Bill suddenly found himself faced with another decision to make. He could link arms with Eddie again, they could walk the rest of the way to the Townhouse without speaking.. _or you could kiss him_ . This second idea felt foreign, as though it were not his own; it came from somewhere deeper then himself. It was the voice of the Turtle, perhaps, or some other entity beyond him. But this possibility, now matter how out of the blue it felt or how much it seemed like something he couldn’t do, made him shiver with the potential of it. _I could do it, if I really wanted to._ Did he really want to? He leaned next to Eddie, trying to subtly take in the man’s profile. Big doe eyes, fluffy hair, his thin frame, chest rising and falling with every breath...the light of the street lamp shone over him like a halo, and Bill’s heart skipped a beat. _I want to._

“Eddie.”

Bill spoke quietly, and the other man looked up at him, tilting his head. Before Eddie could respond, Bill crashed their lips together. Eddie stiffened up, his eyes widening in shock, And Bill felt his heart start hammering away in his rib cage. _Wrong choice!_ They looked at one another for what felt like hours, feeling a bit silly with their lips locked together, before Bill closed his eyes. He felt Eddie’s hands go hesitantly to his hips.

They separated just as Bill’s cheeks began to burn, both gasping for air and Eddie taking his hands off of Bill as though he were burned. He stared up at Bill, looking bewildered, his shoulders shaking and his lips still parted. A strand of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth; the sight of it stirred something in Bill, like coals in a fire. They stared at one another before sinking into another kiss. This one was bolder, more mutual; Eddie once again put his hands on Bill’s hips, holding on gently, while Bill let his own run through Eddie’s hair. They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, parting every few moment to take deep, desperate breaths. Bill tasted salt in the corner of his mouth, and his heart skipped a beat. _He crying. Jesus Christ, he’s crying._ He could not imagine what Eddie must be feeling right now; he felt oddly detached. And yet at the same time, he felt consumed by a range of emotions. _Eddie. My close friend._ How many summer days had he spent with this man, down in the Barrens, at the Aladdin, all over Derry? He loved Eddie. And wasn’t this what love looked like? Bill wondered, for a fleeting second, if the same thing would have happened if he’d walked Bev home.

When they separated for good, Eddie looked as though he were unable to speak, staring up at Bill with the residue of tears still in his eyes. There was a moment of palpable silence; Bill could taste the bitterness of it. All they could do was blink at one another, tension ramping up, before Eddie spoke in a murmur almost too quiet to hear. “I had a crush on you when we were kids.” Eddie took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing to speak. “I mean, we all did, a little bit. But I had it real bad. I mean, I practically--I practically worshiped the ground you walked on.” Eddie grinned a specter’s grin, laughing with a hollow sound that felt horrifying. “And I just…I just…” He laughed once more, but there was nothing funny about it. It was a wheezing laugh, and it quickly descended into racking sobs that left Eddie shaking violently. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?” Eddie finally choked out, his voice heavy and discordant with tears. “We’re too old now. It’s going to kill us. And all of this will have been for nothing.”

Bill could not think of anything to say. There was no way to comfort this out of a person. And in a way, deep down, he knew it was true; but he knew they had to do it anyway. Perhaps, unlike Eddie, he was prepared to die. He had these thoughts within him, sure, but it was as if his vocal cords were a light bulb that had been switched off. He could say nothing. And even if he could, the words would stutter and catch to no end, and it would be the same as saying nothing. Bill frowned in this sense of knowing, watching Eddie sob with a turmoil in his heart he could not act on. He put an arm around Eddie’s shuddering frame, the air around them silent but for the cutting sound of the smaller man’s weeping. They stayed that way, in that profound yet silent act of comfort, until the sound of Eddie’s sobbing became a whimper, then a prolonged sigh, then dissipated into the sound of the wind rushing through the trees. They began to walk again, towards the hotel, still in silence. Only now, instead of arm in arm, they walked hand in shaking hand.

___

The storm inside of Eddie had calmed; whether was gone for good, or simply the eye, Bill could not tell. But what he _could_ tell was that inside of him was something very different. A familiar sort of fire, an embarrassing ache deep inside of his stomach -- the kind that when you’re in high school makes you walk with a limp and hold your books out in front of you. His lips were tingling from the memory of the kiss; the nerves there felt desperate for more sensation. He kept shooting furtive looks at Eddie, his brain buzzing with words unsaid. It was like a fever, burning in his skull and making his head hurt.

The lobby of the townhouse was empty; Bill assumed that everyone else was already in their rooms. He and Eddie separated hands, now conscious of the potential presence of others. It was the writer in him that made something of this; _the darker it is, the more you can be. It’s too bright in here to be._ He let the thought settle within him before storing it away for later. They walked to the elevator, the _ding!_ of the door feeling entirely too loud. Stepping inside, Bill leaned against the wall while Eddie stood in the center of the elevator car. As he pressed the button for the third floor, he found himself faced with yet another choice; _I can press the six button, and I can get off at floor three and Eddie can get off at floor six. Or I can…?_

It was not easy to put into words what he could do. Though the door was still open, the smallness of the elevator seemed to trap and reflect back some sort of trouble-making feeling. They made eye contact with each other now for the first time since the kiss. There was something behind Eddie’s eyes now, something in his coy posture, the tapping of his foot, the hand that absentmindedly went to run though his hair... _Like a catcher looking at a pitcher. And what is it about baseball metaphors again...?_ As they looked at each other, an almost perverse blush began to spread across Eddie’s face. Bill’s stomach twisted into something between a stomach ache and a bolt of lust; it was not entirely unpleasant. All of this happened in the span of maybe a few moments - the elevator door open and the decision hanging on Bill’s shoulders. _I press the six button and he goes to his room. Or I don’t and he goes to mine._

Bill took a shuddering breath as the elevator closed. He did not press the six button.

The shock wave of the choice reverberated through the enclosed walls of the elevator, and Eddie shivered. There was a finality to it; a sense of getting down to business. Eddie knew it. Bill knew it, too. He shifted a bit awkwardly from foot to foot to try and work around the antsy feeling growing within him. The voice from before, the force that told him to kiss Eddie, now egged him on to further and more intense actions. _Bend him over the desk in your room and fuck him. Spread his legs and suck his cock, or have him do the favor. He’d do it. Or just press against him here and feel him get hard against your leg._ This, Bill thought with a strained smile, probably meant it was _not_ the voice of the Turtle. Still, he could not stop those thoughts (and others like them) from careening around inside his skull like tennis balls, echoing over and over and sending dull thuds of desire throughout his body.  

He started having second thoughts as the elevator door opened. That was when the logic of it came in. _Can I really do this?_ It wasn’t that he was straight; Bill had _definitely_ taken that off the table already. But to actually _do_ something about it seemed almost intimidating. Even Eddie had never done something about it, and if it weren’t for Bill he probably never would have. It was like being a virgin again; he and Eddie kept making eye contact and then looking away awkwardly, like a couple of teenagers. But even behind all of that was something else. _I shouldn’t do this_ . Yes, despite everything he had already done and said and thought, there was still the underlying feeling that what he was doing was Wrong, Wrong with a capital W, and that he shouldn’t do it. _I suppose I’m already past the point of things you aren’t supposed to do._ In his uncertainty, he made a sort of bet with himself, a pitiful way of pretending it was up to fate. _If he only takes his shoes off, then nothing will happen. If he takes his jacket off, then…?_

Bill shakily opened the door to his room, stepping inside. He took his shoes off, and Eddie followed suit. Then Eddie sat down on the bed and took his jacket off.

_Well, okay, then. Let’s get this party started._

After a moment of what was nearly reflection, Bill slowly walked over to Eddie the way one approaches a stray cat. He sat down next to the smaller man, the bed frame creaking underneath him. Their hands lay almost tantalizingly close to one another, without touching. Bill looked over at Eddie, a knot forming in his stomach that he could not fully understand. That blush still lit up Eddie’s pale face as he frowned vaguely, and something about it drove Bill mad. There was an energy emanating off of Eddie, something alluring and possibly volatile. Bill noticed that he had put his jacket over his lap. Then, in a motion not unlike a flinch, Eddie quickly turned his head to Bill, his lip quivering with some unadulterated feeling. Raising one nervous hand to his face, he took his glasses off and put them on the nightstand. He did not look away from Bill as he did this.

So it began.

Bill leaned in towards Eddie tenderly, maddeningly close to the other man’s face. He had to actively stop himself from pulling Eddie into a dizzy and passionate kiss. “Huh-have you ever d-d-done anything w-with guys before?” Bill asked in a low tone, and Eddie shook his head frantically, seemingly unable to access words. In an odd sort of slow motion, they shifted from sitting next to each other to Eddie laying against one of the pillows with Bill towering over him. The movement caused the jacket to fall off of Eddie’s lap, revealing his erection. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, before Bill spoke again. “N-N-Neither have I.” Eddie blinked slowly: once, twice. When he spoke again it was in a breathy, shuddering voice.

“Please.”

This single word was what pushed Bill over the edge, and, closing his eyes, he leaned in to meet Eddie’s lips for the second time that night. A part of his brain wondered sarcastically whether if he did it another time, the face of Eddie’s wife would appear, howling like a spirit in a mirror.

( _audra audra audra AUDRA!!!!!!!)_

Bill’s eyes shot open again as his heart began to race with an uneasy feeling. He could not tell what he felt worse about; the fact that he was cheating or the fact that he hadn’t even thought about it until now. _Cheating_. It was a bad word, a dirty word, and it coursed through his body like a virus. There was another frantic decision to be made now, to call it off and apologize...or not to. One fact was that Audra was a million miles away; she would be awake now, back in England, reading, studying lines, maybe. She would never know. And maybe that was a terrible way to think about it, and he was a terrible person, but it was the truth. By the time she saw him again, he would love her and her only or he would be in a coffin. That was the truth, too. This night, and whatever happened in it, would exist only in a memory once it was over, and even that memory would disappear in time. Another fact was that this felt like the sickest sort of destiny. There was some drive for him to do this, whether it was for his own sake or Eddie’s. It was like being pulled on a string; he was convinced that this would have happened no matter who he’d walked. The last fact was that the barely-there pressure of Eddie’s thigh against his erection made Bill feel like he was losing his mind.

And so he kept kissing Eddie. He closed his eyes again, and let the sensation fill him. Eddie hands shakily made their way to the back of Bill’s head, and he shivered at the ghostly feeling of the smaller man’s slender fingers running through his hair. Eddie parted his lips, allowing Bill’s tongue to slip into his mouth. Eddie made a small noise in the back of his throat, a desperate and lewd sound that sent a shock down Bill’s spine. They parted only to take quick, shallow breaths before falling into each other again. They stayed this way for a good while; perhaps, on some level, they were afraid to go further, unsure of themselves. Finally Bill took the initiative, detaching his lips from Eddie’s own and kissing the other man’s neck.

One factor Bill hadn’t accounted for was the _moaning_ . He was no virgin; being married for eleven years to an actress sort of takes that off the table. But perhaps, rather stupidly, he hadn’t realized how many... _aspects_ would be the same here. With Eddie’s mouth free, his panting and shaky breaths echoed in the room, seeming to be almost amplified. It was maddening. He kissed and sucked at Eddie’s neck with a fervor, leaving the beginnings of bruises across the pale skin. The smaller man shivered and bit his lip, his eyes darting almost nervously around the room. His hands gripped lightly at the bedsheets. Bill, not quite knowing what to do with his hands, let them roam gently over Eddie’s chest. The thumb and forefinger of his right hand hovered over the top button of the man’s shirt in a non-verbal question. Eddie answered it with a quick nod of his head, a flush over the entirety of his face. As he slowly began to unbutton Eddie’s shirt, Bill detached from his neck with a deep breath in before facing Eddie with a determined look on his face.

“Huh-huh-how are you f-feeling, Eh-Eh-Eddie?” he murmured in a low tone. His voice felt strained from lack of use, and he realized it was the first time since they really began that he had spoken.

“I...I feel...good,” Eddie panted out, his voice heavy. The tone of it sent a pulse to Bill’s crotch.

Bill finished unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt, and it lay open with his arms still inside of the sleeves. Eddie did not move at first, seeming unsure of himself as Bill slowly brushed his fingers over his bare skin. Then, he slowly moved his shaking, nervous hands to rest on Bill’s head and slip down to his back. His skin felt so cold, Bill thought, and so pale, like he were touching the ghost of a man. Eddie’s breath hitched as Bill’s hands moved lower and lower down his torso, his lips parting in a whispery moan. Bill’s self restraint felt stretched paper thin as he stared down at Eddie, biting his lip and breathing heavily. It seemed an impossible task to touch him so lightly, to hold back the urge to rip his clothes off and fuck him into that little death.

He met somewhere in the middle and snaked one hand down to the button on the front of Eddie’s dress pants, somewhat pleased at the feeling of the other man’s hips rising to press against his palm. He undid the button and slid the zipper down, rubbing teasingly against Eddie’s crotch as he did so. Eddie whined and groaned, thrusting up against Bill’s hand and throwing his head back. Bill squeezed ever so lightly, getting more than a bit of a power rush from the control he seemed to have over Eddie, until Eddie’s eyes went wide and he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth so not to scream. Bill felt the wetness under his hand and pulled it away, looking up at Eddie. “D-D-Did you---”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie exhaled, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Bill. He seemed frightened; his face was flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and he looked so very frightened. “Sorry, Bill.” There were no more words for a long while, and they stared at one another. Whatever magic confidence had taken them over, made them comfortable, was gone. Now there were only consequences. For the first time that night, making a decision was out of Bill’s hands: it was Eddie’s decision now. Bill watched the other man’s eyes, tracking the progress of that decision. He felt helpless. At the end of it all, Eddie decided to shakily get to his feet, hastily re-zipping his pants and picking up his coat.

“A-Are you luh-luh-leaving?” Bill asked, not moving from where he still knelt on the bed. He was surprised by the disappointment in his own voice. Eddie turned back to him, not making eye contact

“This was a mistake, I---I’m sorry Bill. I can’t. I can’t do that to Myra. And I can’t do it to myself. I’m still so frightened.”

There was a pause, then, and Bill frowned.

“I’m sorry to be like this.”

“N-N-No, I uh-hnderstand.”

_I still wish you’d stay. I really wish you’d stay._

Eddie then scrambled out of the room rather awkwardly, meeting Bill’s eyes for only a second as he closed the door behind him. There was a profound sort of sadness there, one that Bill could identify but never come close to feel. He sat on the bed and listened to Eddie’s footsteps fade down the hall, then jacked off into oblivion and fell into a blank, dreamless sleep.

\---

Eddie had left his shoes and his glasses in Bill’s room, which made the world look fuzzy and the floor feel too soft under his feet. It matched the way his head felt. He stumbled into the elevator, the _ding!_ of its arrival making him jump. He made his cautious way back to his own room, and changed clothes, but then he didn’t know what else to do with himself. The whole thing felt like a dream; a dream he’d had before, but now with a face and a name. He didn’t know what to do about it. He was frightened. He paced back and forth, back and forth, and ran the experience over in his head obsessively, until it smoothed out like a pebble and was no longer intrusive.

When the knock on the door came, he’d thought it was Bill. _Hoped_ it was Bill, so he could apologize, or explain himself better...or make it up to him, with his hands or his mouth, now that he had gotten a grip on himself. “Whozit?” he asked roughly through the door, surprised by how tired his voice sounded. On the very contrary, his whole body felt alive with nervous energy.

“Bellboy, sir. Message from your wife.”

“From Myra?”

_(just my luck! just my fucking luck!)_

“I guess so, sir. There’s no name. It just says your wife.”

His heart thudding nervously in his chest, Eddie undid the chain and opened up the door. It was not Bill.


End file.
